It pains me that there are already mean girls in elementary school. I hate that I can't protect my sweet girls from everything. It is tragic that even starting at age 5, girls feel like they are in competition with each other. Instead of being taught that other girls are their allies, girls are being shown that they should feel threatened. Instead of being a friend to everyone no matter what, girls are instead choosing to make their friendships conditional. As in, do what I want all of the time or we can't be friends. Its sad that little girls who shouldn't have anything to worry about spend their time and their tears on people who are only going to get meaner. If someone is already a bully or a mean girl in second grade, imagine having to deal with that person in middle school. I would prefer not to, and I wish my kids didn't have to either.
I constantly tell my girls to choose kindness. Be a friend to everyone. You don't have to like everyone, but you still have to be nice them. Its not being fake to be nice to people that you don't like, its being a good person. Of course I don't like everybody on the planet, but this isn't high school, I'm an adult. I still have to be nice, and if I have to do it, then so do my kids.
There is a shortage of kindness everywhere, I don't want my kids to ever be an example of that. That's why I emphasize the importance of being nice. That's why I don't tolerate them even speaking to each other in a mean tone of voice. Saying what you feel is one thing. Saying hurtful things is another. Once you say something, you can't take it back, so you should make sure you mean it and don't make it mean.
Maybe the problem isn't that little girls are destined to be mean, but that no one is teaching them any different. No one is showing them that their actions have consequences. No one is modeling how you should treat your friends, maybe they aren't very good friends themselves. Children learn by example, so if all they see is negativity, that's how they act. That's how they will treat their peers, and they will end up hurting people who don't deserve it.
I'm choosing to teach my kids to be nice no matter what. I want them to be kind to people, even if that isn't what is given to them in return. I want the world that they grow up to live in to be filled with good people, so I'm doing my best to make sure that my contribution is just that: kind and honest people. They might be imperfect, but they'll never be mean.
Showing posts with label My thoughts and opinions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My thoughts and opinions. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Back in My Day
It isn't possible to live in the past. You have to live for the time you're in now, embrace what is available to you and accept that the world around you will change. That's why it drives me COMPLETELY CRAZY when I read or hear people saying things about how everything was better in the past. Was it really? Was life simpler in the 1950s? Do you feel like if you could go back, you would, because back when you were a kid it only cost 25 cents to go to the movies? That is the only difference between now and then?
I hate that people cannot see the good in the world around them now. Instead, they complain about kids these days and how everything used to cost less. It is easy to look back at a time in hindsight and only think of the good. Parents look back at when their children were babies and the sleepless nights and dirty diapers all but disappear, instead they focus on the cute baby laughs and chubby cheeks. At high school graduation you think of all of the fun you had with your friends, but no one wants to remember how mean teenagers can be or the piles of homework or cafeteria food. When people look back with nostalgia at a particular decade like the 50s, they might think of poodle skirts, diners, and sock hops. That's a pretty broad generalization that basically skips over any and all problems in the world during that time. Women and minorities did not have the same rights then as they do now, Jim Crow laws were still in affect, people lived in fear of communism, and nobody had invented TiVo yet, this doesn't really sound like a glamorous time to me. I doubt anyone really wants to go back to a time when drinking fountains were designated "White" or "Colored" and nobody could record television on demand. You might as well live in the stone age people.
The world might be different now. People have smartphones and cable and Facebook, things that used to be cheap aren't anymore because that's how it works people, and chances are you are going to run into people that are different from you. They might look different, dress different, have different standards than you and your family. And everyone's natural inclination is to shelter their children from all of this, because having your children grow up to be tolerant and understand the nature of humanity being a diverse group of people is the worst possible scenario. Since I'm raising tiny socialists I try to teach my kids that people are different, and that's okay, they can still be their friends. That doesn't mean I want my kids to do the stuff they see out in the world. I would prefer that they not twerk onstage in front of a bunch of people, or wear shorts where their butt cheeks are hanging out, or get pregnant when they're in high school, but stuff happens. I want them to understand and be tolerant, that doesn't mean I want them to do the things they see in the world. There is a difference, you just have to recognize it.
The world isn't all bad all the time. There will always be good things to see, and that's all I want my kids to be able to recognize. We will look back at this time with nostalgia at some point, remembering how cheap things were because there's always room for them to get more expensive, remembering how nice social media can sometimes be when it comes to keeping in touch with people, remembering a time when our kids were little and everything was simpler. But you have to also be aware that the time you are living in is good too, even if there aren't any as many poodle skirts or diners.
I hate that people cannot see the good in the world around them now. Instead, they complain about kids these days and how everything used to cost less. It is easy to look back at a time in hindsight and only think of the good. Parents look back at when their children were babies and the sleepless nights and dirty diapers all but disappear, instead they focus on the cute baby laughs and chubby cheeks. At high school graduation you think of all of the fun you had with your friends, but no one wants to remember how mean teenagers can be or the piles of homework or cafeteria food. When people look back with nostalgia at a particular decade like the 50s, they might think of poodle skirts, diners, and sock hops. That's a pretty broad generalization that basically skips over any and all problems in the world during that time. Women and minorities did not have the same rights then as they do now, Jim Crow laws were still in affect, people lived in fear of communism, and nobody had invented TiVo yet, this doesn't really sound like a glamorous time to me. I doubt anyone really wants to go back to a time when drinking fountains were designated "White" or "Colored" and nobody could record television on demand. You might as well live in the stone age people.
The world might be different now. People have smartphones and cable and Facebook, things that used to be cheap aren't anymore because that's how it works people, and chances are you are going to run into people that are different from you. They might look different, dress different, have different standards than you and your family. And everyone's natural inclination is to shelter their children from all of this, because having your children grow up to be tolerant and understand the nature of humanity being a diverse group of people is the worst possible scenario. Since I'm raising tiny socialists I try to teach my kids that people are different, and that's okay, they can still be their friends. That doesn't mean I want my kids to do the stuff they see out in the world. I would prefer that they not twerk onstage in front of a bunch of people, or wear shorts where their butt cheeks are hanging out, or get pregnant when they're in high school, but stuff happens. I want them to understand and be tolerant, that doesn't mean I want them to do the things they see in the world. There is a difference, you just have to recognize it.
The world isn't all bad all the time. There will always be good things to see, and that's all I want my kids to be able to recognize. We will look back at this time with nostalgia at some point, remembering how cheap things were because there's always room for them to get more expensive, remembering how nice social media can sometimes be when it comes to keeping in touch with people, remembering a time when our kids were little and everything was simpler. But you have to also be aware that the time you are living in is good too, even if there aren't any as many poodle skirts or diners.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Customer Satisfaction
Have you ever gotten a really bad haircut and then when the stylist was done and they asked you if you like it you said yes? No? I definitely have. They put me on the spot! I had no choice! I've even gone back to someone who gave me a bad haircut to give them a second chance, mostly because this is a small town and there aren't that many people who can cut hair. But then that same person gave me a second bad haircut that took a long time to grow out and I quit going back and found a super nice new girl to cut my hair and she has never given me a bad haircut.
I bet you're reading this right now and wondering if there is a point to it. I promise you there is. I consider myself an honest person. I never say a baby is cute if I don't really think that it is. I don't eat food that I think is gross to spare someone's feelings. I actually rarely eat other people's cooking if I'm unsure about how clean their kitchen is. I don't give compliments that I don't mean. I want to be real and I want people to believe me when I say something. But when I am put on the spot like that, I have said that I liked a service that I was paying for when in reality I did not.
Sometimes I see other people complimenting things and saying stuff that is different from my own opinion and I doubt the sincerity. They could genuinely like what they are calling cute, or they could just be being polite. I don't know what to believe. This is especially true when it comes to pictures, mostly on Facebook. I see a picture that is not that great (in my opinion) taken by someone who has recently declared themselves a professional photographer extraordinaire and everyone is like High five this is awesome you could totally charge millions of dollars for your photography services! and I'm over here thinking Vignettes do not automatically make a picture look better what is wrong with people! and then I kind of feel bad for being so judgmental but I don't want to be dishonest.
I keep my sometimes negative opinions to myself. Even if inside I'm thinking that a photo is too dark or over saturated and stop using selective color people! I just keeping on trucking and don't say anything. If I do say something, its nice and you can bet your life I mean it. That doesn't mean my silence is disapproval, it just means I never say anything mean online when I think something could be improved upon. Except this blog right now. But I'm not being specific and I do think there are good pictures being taken by people besides me.
There is a good reason that I never say OMG cutest photo ever! when I don't mean it. It is because I don't want people saying that stuff to me unless it is sincere. If you compliment me it better be your honest opinion. If I am being paid to take someone's picture I wanna know what they really think, even if its not favorable. I want to be told what people want, not something nice to spare my feelings.
If I had been braver I would've told my former hairstylist that I hated my haircut, but I didn't realize just how much I hated it till I looked closer when I got home. If I disliked it at the salon, I loathed it at home. And I never said a word.
There are some people whose opinions I value more than others. If someone compliments my writing and I think that they are also a good writer, then I value their opinion more. If someone compliments my pictures and I know they have a good eye and can also take good pictures then I take that more seriously because I think they know what they are talking about. I also tend to believe people when their compliments are in person, completely unsolicited. When someone just says, totally out of the blue, I really liked that one picture you took that one time! I'm pretty sure they are telling the truth. I just want to be sure that people really like a picture that I take and they aren't just saying that. I like my pictures, and I have pretty high standards, but everyone's opinions are different. Some people like vignettes.
I bet you're reading this right now and wondering if there is a point to it. I promise you there is. I consider myself an honest person. I never say a baby is cute if I don't really think that it is. I don't eat food that I think is gross to spare someone's feelings. I actually rarely eat other people's cooking if I'm unsure about how clean their kitchen is. I don't give compliments that I don't mean. I want to be real and I want people to believe me when I say something. But when I am put on the spot like that, I have said that I liked a service that I was paying for when in reality I did not.
Sometimes I see other people complimenting things and saying stuff that is different from my own opinion and I doubt the sincerity. They could genuinely like what they are calling cute, or they could just be being polite. I don't know what to believe. This is especially true when it comes to pictures, mostly on Facebook. I see a picture that is not that great (in my opinion) taken by someone who has recently declared themselves a professional photographer extraordinaire and everyone is like High five this is awesome you could totally charge millions of dollars for your photography services! and I'm over here thinking Vignettes do not automatically make a picture look better what is wrong with people! and then I kind of feel bad for being so judgmental but I don't want to be dishonest.
I keep my sometimes negative opinions to myself. Even if inside I'm thinking that a photo is too dark or over saturated and stop using selective color people! I just keeping on trucking and don't say anything. If I do say something, its nice and you can bet your life I mean it. That doesn't mean my silence is disapproval, it just means I never say anything mean online when I think something could be improved upon. Except this blog right now. But I'm not being specific and I do think there are good pictures being taken by people besides me.
There is a good reason that I never say OMG cutest photo ever! when I don't mean it. It is because I don't want people saying that stuff to me unless it is sincere. If you compliment me it better be your honest opinion. If I am being paid to take someone's picture I wanna know what they really think, even if its not favorable. I want to be told what people want, not something nice to spare my feelings.
If I had been braver I would've told my former hairstylist that I hated my haircut, but I didn't realize just how much I hated it till I looked closer when I got home. If I disliked it at the salon, I loathed it at home. And I never said a word.
There are some people whose opinions I value more than others. If someone compliments my writing and I think that they are also a good writer, then I value their opinion more. If someone compliments my pictures and I know they have a good eye and can also take good pictures then I take that more seriously because I think they know what they are talking about. I also tend to believe people when their compliments are in person, completely unsolicited. When someone just says, totally out of the blue, I really liked that one picture you took that one time! I'm pretty sure they are telling the truth. I just want to be sure that people really like a picture that I take and they aren't just saying that. I like my pictures, and I have pretty high standards, but everyone's opinions are different. Some people like vignettes.
Friday, May 18, 2012
The "Shower" Part is Not Literal
Whenever I think of a baby shower I am reminded of my nephew inquiring about who was going to bring the towels before we attended one a few years ago. In his mind we were going to actually shower, he just wanted to know if they provided the towels. Ava had similar concerns about our baby shower. They were in the nature of How is everyone going to fit in our bathtub? I assured her there was no actual shower and its not at our house, so space is not an issue.
The thing about baby showers is that I have mixed feelings about them. Even if it is my own, I don't particularly want to attend. I'll go, but I'm not wrapping toilet paper around anyone's belly.
I'm the kind of person that baby registries were invented for. I'm not picky, I'm particular. If you are wise you will buy something off of the list, unless you really know me well enough to get something I like. I made that list for a reason, even if it was David scanning every blanket in Target with that little gun. We are gonna have like 50 blankets for a summer baby. He will definitely be warm and it will be because of David and his obsessive blanket scanning.
Seriously though, the idea of a registry is great, but it is kind of like a list to Santa Claus. Its a suggestion. Santa is gonna bring whatever he wants to bring, even if you just want a bicycle or a Bumbo seat. At the end of the shower if you don't have what you want you better hope someone gave you a giftcard like one of my awesome friends does every time or you are buying that crap yourself.
My baby shower for this little guy is tomorrow and while I'm sort of excited, I'm also sort of dreadful because I hate opening presents in front of an audience. That's why I'm bringing my husband, he can serve a purpose. The purpose of opening presents and bending over to pick up stuff I've dropped and gifts on the floor. We won't tell anyone that the party is co-ed because he wanted it like that so he could go. And that all of the Dallas Cowboys balloons were his idea. I think they'll figure that part out themselves. They should make it more like weddings, where you open the gifts after everyone has left. Although there would be significantly less utterings of the word cute and precious and adorable I think that I could make that sacrifice.
Either way I can't get out of going to my own baby shower. The only excuse I can come up with is going into labor, and that would probably be more work than attending a party. Plus I don't think all of the Eegee's and cookies will get eaten by me if I'm in the hospital. So I'll just keep everything the way it is, attend my own baby shower, have my baby closer to his due date, and suffer through opening presents in front of people. But I draw the line at games where people wrap toilet paper around my belly and inevitably overestimate cause they assume I'm huge. That is a no-win situation.
****Post edit: My baby shower was actually fun, no one tried to wrap toilet paper around me, and we got lots of useful things and lots of gift cards, which could be my favorite thing ever because they are like a free invitation to Target. So baby showers aren't so bad, mostly.
The thing about baby showers is that I have mixed feelings about them. Even if it is my own, I don't particularly want to attend. I'll go, but I'm not wrapping toilet paper around anyone's belly.
I'm the kind of person that baby registries were invented for. I'm not picky, I'm particular. If you are wise you will buy something off of the list, unless you really know me well enough to get something I like. I made that list for a reason, even if it was David scanning every blanket in Target with that little gun. We are gonna have like 50 blankets for a summer baby. He will definitely be warm and it will be because of David and his obsessive blanket scanning.
Seriously though, the idea of a registry is great, but it is kind of like a list to Santa Claus. Its a suggestion. Santa is gonna bring whatever he wants to bring, even if you just want a bicycle or a Bumbo seat. At the end of the shower if you don't have what you want you better hope someone gave you a giftcard like one of my awesome friends does every time or you are buying that crap yourself.
My baby shower for this little guy is tomorrow and while I'm sort of excited, I'm also sort of dreadful because I hate opening presents in front of an audience. That's why I'm bringing my husband, he can serve a purpose. The purpose of opening presents and bending over to pick up stuff I've dropped and gifts on the floor. We won't tell anyone that the party is co-ed because he wanted it like that so he could go. And that all of the Dallas Cowboys balloons were his idea. I think they'll figure that part out themselves. They should make it more like weddings, where you open the gifts after everyone has left. Although there would be significantly less utterings of the word cute and precious and adorable I think that I could make that sacrifice.
Either way I can't get out of going to my own baby shower. The only excuse I can come up with is going into labor, and that would probably be more work than attending a party. Plus I don't think all of the Eegee's and cookies will get eaten by me if I'm in the hospital. So I'll just keep everything the way it is, attend my own baby shower, have my baby closer to his due date, and suffer through opening presents in front of people. But I draw the line at games where people wrap toilet paper around my belly and inevitably overestimate cause they assume I'm huge. That is a no-win situation.
****Post edit: My baby shower was actually fun, no one tried to wrap toilet paper around me, and we got lots of useful things and lots of gift cards, which could be my favorite thing ever because they are like a free invitation to Target. So baby showers aren't so bad, mostly.
Friday, April 20, 2012
We MIGHT Have Something in Common. Maybe.
I just tried to watch 16 & Pregnant. I can't do it anymore. I had to change it. Those girls can be so annoying. I get that they're only teenagers and they're immature. That's not what annoys me. Well maybe partly. I get that they want their boyfriends to grow up and help so they can be a family, but I'm sorry honey, if he wasn't grown up before he probably won't grow up instantly when you have your baby. Boys just aren't wired the same way. I know its the nature of teenage girls to give boys a second chance, I know cause I've been that girl, minus the pregnancies, but after 10 second chances dump the guy.
The thing that has really started to annoy me about these girls is how naive they are. They think that having a baby is going to be a picnic and no matter how many people tell them otherwise they don't believe them. Then at the end of the show they're all crying and sleep deprived talking about how they wished they'd waited and it's just so hard to be a mom!
I know the first part of motherhood is overwhelming. Pregnancy is overwhelming. A crying baby is overwhelming. Everything can be overwhelming. And tiring. And stressful. And patience testing. And as much as people try to "warn" you about it, you won't believe anything they say until you're a mom. Cause no one tells you the majority of the stuff that will probably happen. Or definitely.
No one tells you about how pregnancy can make you do crazy stuff, or they do but you don't realize how crazy you are until you're post-craziness, reflecting on whatever it is you just did, like throw away a crockpot full of dinner cause your husband just ate some ice cream. That was rational, I don't care. You are never prepared for the squishy-ness of your previously hard belly right after you have a baby. One day its hard and there's someone in there you can't wait to meet, the next day its a blob that you don't know what to do with and no clothes, maternity or otherwise, can quite fit it. Makes you feel super attractive. In contrast is the rock hard cantaloupes that your boobs will become when your milk comes in. Ouch. Luckily this does improve with subsequent pregnancies, don't worry its not nearly as bad with your second kid. Everything adjusts much quicker. I'm hoping the third time is even better, fingers crossed.
Those things are even before you have to deal with the actual person you are now responsible for caring for 24/7. That person doesn't care if you're tired cause they're hungry so just suck it up mommy! The hospital just lets you come home with that person, no training necessary. Scary. Then you have to figure out what cry means what, when you're going to actually sleep and eat, and when you're going to find time to shower this week.
No one tells you that you will lose yourself in that little person. They become the center of the universe, the apple of your eye. You really cannot fathom how much you're going to love them until you hold them and look into their perfect little face for the first time, even if they're all slimy still. Then when/if your second one comes along, no one tells you its possible to duplicate that. You think, how is it even possible to love that much again? I cannot imagine it, it can't be true. But it is. And you will. And its totally worth the rock hard boobs and craziness and having the theme song to Doc McStuffins stuck in your head the entire week.
No matter how prepared you think you are, how many times you read What to Expect When You're Expecting, how much you nest and decorate your nursery, you will at one point find yourself a little bit like the annoying girls on 16 & Pregnant, completely unprepared, completely overwhelmed, but completely infatuated with this tiny little person, whether you had them on purpose or not.
The thing that has really started to annoy me about these girls is how naive they are. They think that having a baby is going to be a picnic and no matter how many people tell them otherwise they don't believe them. Then at the end of the show they're all crying and sleep deprived talking about how they wished they'd waited and it's just so hard to be a mom!
I know the first part of motherhood is overwhelming. Pregnancy is overwhelming. A crying baby is overwhelming. Everything can be overwhelming. And tiring. And stressful. And patience testing. And as much as people try to "warn" you about it, you won't believe anything they say until you're a mom. Cause no one tells you the majority of the stuff that will probably happen. Or definitely.
No one tells you about how pregnancy can make you do crazy stuff, or they do but you don't realize how crazy you are until you're post-craziness, reflecting on whatever it is you just did, like throw away a crockpot full of dinner cause your husband just ate some ice cream. That was rational, I don't care. You are never prepared for the squishy-ness of your previously hard belly right after you have a baby. One day its hard and there's someone in there you can't wait to meet, the next day its a blob that you don't know what to do with and no clothes, maternity or otherwise, can quite fit it. Makes you feel super attractive. In contrast is the rock hard cantaloupes that your boobs will become when your milk comes in. Ouch. Luckily this does improve with subsequent pregnancies, don't worry its not nearly as bad with your second kid. Everything adjusts much quicker. I'm hoping the third time is even better, fingers crossed.
Those things are even before you have to deal with the actual person you are now responsible for caring for 24/7. That person doesn't care if you're tired cause they're hungry so just suck it up mommy! The hospital just lets you come home with that person, no training necessary. Scary. Then you have to figure out what cry means what, when you're going to actually sleep and eat, and when you're going to find time to shower this week.
No one tells you that you will lose yourself in that little person. They become the center of the universe, the apple of your eye. You really cannot fathom how much you're going to love them until you hold them and look into their perfect little face for the first time, even if they're all slimy still. Then when/if your second one comes along, no one tells you its possible to duplicate that. You think, how is it even possible to love that much again? I cannot imagine it, it can't be true. But it is. And you will. And its totally worth the rock hard boobs and craziness and having the theme song to Doc McStuffins stuck in your head the entire week.
No matter how prepared you think you are, how many times you read What to Expect When You're Expecting, how much you nest and decorate your nursery, you will at one point find yourself a little bit like the annoying girls on 16 & Pregnant, completely unprepared, completely overwhelmed, but completely infatuated with this tiny little person, whether you had them on purpose or not.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Pregnant Enough
There is a point in pregnancy when you do not appear pregnant to the outside world. You know you're pregnant, and that there is a reason that you're buying Sour Patch Watermelons, Hostess cupcakes and Ben & Jerry's all in one purchase, with nothing else. There is a logical reason for it. Don't look at me funny judgmental Walmart cashier!
Then there is a point that you start to look pregnant, which happens earlier and earlier with each baby, so that when you're having baby number 3, like myself, you look pregnant way earlier than you ever have. For awhile it just looks like you've been eating too many doughnuts. There is something there, but its not pronounced enough for people to assume its a growing baby, they instead think that its a growing gut.
When I was pregnant with Alana I did not look pregnant with clothes on anyway until I was about 22 weeks. Then with Ava it was probably 20. Now with this one I look pregnant, and I have for a couple of weeks. Towards the end of the day I look more and more pregnant. Its crazy.
I'm pregnant enough that strangers can tell from one look that I'm pregnant.
I'm pregnant enough that I'm starting to field the questions of When are you due? Do you know what you're having? from people that I don't know.
I'm pregnant enough that I don't care for standing for long periods of time, cause its just not comfortable.
I'm pregnant enough that sleeping on my stomach is kind of awkward. Not impossible yet, but still weird.
I'm pregnant enough that on Thursday we will know what we are having. Blue or pink. X or y. Boy or girl.
I'm pregnant enough that my belly works as a handy shelf for holding two year olds.
Then there is a point that you start to look pregnant, which happens earlier and earlier with each baby, so that when you're having baby number 3, like myself, you look pregnant way earlier than you ever have. For awhile it just looks like you've been eating too many doughnuts. There is something there, but its not pronounced enough for people to assume its a growing baby, they instead think that its a growing gut.
When I was pregnant with Alana I did not look pregnant with clothes on anyway until I was about 22 weeks. Then with Ava it was probably 20. Now with this one I look pregnant, and I have for a couple of weeks. Towards the end of the day I look more and more pregnant. Its crazy.
I'm pregnant enough that strangers can tell from one look that I'm pregnant.
I'm pregnant enough that I'm starting to field the questions of When are you due? Do you know what you're having? from people that I don't know.
I'm pregnant enough that I don't care for standing for long periods of time, cause its just not comfortable.
I'm pregnant enough that sleeping on my stomach is kind of awkward. Not impossible yet, but still weird.
I'm pregnant enough that on Thursday we will know what we are having. Blue or pink. X or y. Boy or girl.
I'm pregnant enough that my belly works as a handy shelf for holding two year olds.
.jpg) |
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Doppelganger
I have a dilemma whenever I watch the Disney Jr show Jake and the Neverland Pirates. I cannot keep myself from wondering how they possibly cast Duff Goldman to sing their opening song.
I don't think its an eerie coincidence. I think that Duff takes time out of his busy cake making life to make corny pirate music videos for a show on the Disney channel. True story. You've seen the evidence.
 |
| Pretty cute show, if you like pirates and such. Needs more dubloons. |
 |
| That's Duff on the left, with his matey. |
 |
| I swear that's the same guy. |
I don't think its an eerie coincidence. I think that Duff takes time out of his busy cake making life to make corny pirate music videos for a show on the Disney channel. True story. You've seen the evidence.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Forever is Kind of a Long Time
Whenever I hear the news that a couple I know is getting divorced, I always ask the same question. Why? You can't ever really explain the why without the what when where when how. There may not even be a solid good, real reason for the divorce. They call that irreconcible differences. Whatever that means.
It's hard to know the motivation behind events that take place in someone else's relationship. Who knows what makes someone cheat or lie or drink or be abusive or just want out. We all wonder what big cataclysmic event caused a divorce, but it was more likely a chain of small happenings, that all added up, piled on to the huge mountain of resentment that accumulates in a marriage, and that crazy equation of dysfunction ended up equalling the end.
The truth is marriage is a funny relationship. It stands alone in that it takes more work, and its not necessarily unconditional. With your children, you always love them no matter what. You can easily overlook their flaws, cause you made them and their cuteness typically helps. With family, you didn't pick them, but you're essentially stuck with them. You can't divorce your parents or siblings, but you don't have to live with them either. No matter what your parents are your parents, your siblings are your siblings, and your family is your family.
The only relationship you can reverse is marriage. It doesn't have to be a unanimous decision. Not everyone is always on board. Both parties can be at fault or one party can be at fault. One day your spouse can just say Hey I'm sick of this let's call it quits and what are you gonna do? There's no going back from that.
You can put everything you have into something, but there's still no guarantee you're gonna get anything out of it. That's the risk of love, you don't get your money back.
In spite of the risk I'm still willing to be a wife, cause this is the only functional relationship I've ever been in. I got married cause it offers stability. Its a contract that I will pick up David's shoes off the floor and begrudgingly pretend to care about the Cowboys if he will put up with my occasional moodiness. That's the only flaw I could think of, otherwise I'm just peaches to live with. Marriage to me is work, but that work means I don't have to worry that one day it will just end, cause I don't really care for breakups. They're terrible. They suck. They bite. I got married to avoid them for the rest of my life.
In some cases divorce is probably the healthier option. Kids shouldn't be around excessive amounts of dysfunction, medium is probably their limit in order to not end up on Intervention. That is my main goal as a parent, just to keep my kids from being so screwed up by my actions that they end up as some crackhead who can't deal with their feelings and goes on TV all crazy. If I achieve nothing else in life, I will still consider myself a success if I can do that one thing.
It's hard to know the motivation behind events that take place in someone else's relationship. Who knows what makes someone cheat or lie or drink or be abusive or just want out. We all wonder what big cataclysmic event caused a divorce, but it was more likely a chain of small happenings, that all added up, piled on to the huge mountain of resentment that accumulates in a marriage, and that crazy equation of dysfunction ended up equalling the end.
The truth is marriage is a funny relationship. It stands alone in that it takes more work, and its not necessarily unconditional. With your children, you always love them no matter what. You can easily overlook their flaws, cause you made them and their cuteness typically helps. With family, you didn't pick them, but you're essentially stuck with them. You can't divorce your parents or siblings, but you don't have to live with them either. No matter what your parents are your parents, your siblings are your siblings, and your family is your family.
The only relationship you can reverse is marriage. It doesn't have to be a unanimous decision. Not everyone is always on board. Both parties can be at fault or one party can be at fault. One day your spouse can just say Hey I'm sick of this let's call it quits and what are you gonna do? There's no going back from that.
You can put everything you have into something, but there's still no guarantee you're gonna get anything out of it. That's the risk of love, you don't get your money back.
In spite of the risk I'm still willing to be a wife, cause this is the only functional relationship I've ever been in. I got married cause it offers stability. Its a contract that I will pick up David's shoes off the floor and begrudgingly pretend to care about the Cowboys if he will put up with my occasional moodiness. That's the only flaw I could think of, otherwise I'm just peaches to live with. Marriage to me is work, but that work means I don't have to worry that one day it will just end, cause I don't really care for breakups. They're terrible. They suck. They bite. I got married to avoid them for the rest of my life.
In some cases divorce is probably the healthier option. Kids shouldn't be around excessive amounts of dysfunction, medium is probably their limit in order to not end up on Intervention. That is my main goal as a parent, just to keep my kids from being so screwed up by my actions that they end up as some crackhead who can't deal with their feelings and goes on TV all crazy. If I achieve nothing else in life, I will still consider myself a success if I can do that one thing.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Some Might Call it Obsessive
I am unsure why I feel an obligation to blog. Maybe I need to record things, just cause, so that I can remember because I am getting kinda old. 29. Yikes.
I don't remember plenty of things. Like the current phone number of anyone I know. Curse you technology and your number saving abilities! But my phone number and address from when I lived in Tucson at age 10? 795-4872. 4626 East 15th Street. Those things are locked away in a steel cage in my mind, never to leave. I can't remember what it was like to hold my girls as a newborn, but I know my phone number from when I was ten.
I can't remember the exact the process that muscles use to transfer chemical energy, to be fair I should study it more but I've resigned myself to getting a B and retaking this class cause powers beyond my control have conspired against me. But, I know my recipe for chocolate chip cookies by heart. Haven't made it in a couple weeks, cause I intentionally ran out of chocolate chips, but I still know it. I can remember every. single. cheer. from high school cheerleading, but biology escapes me.
At night when I lay down to go to bed, way too late, my mind is full of awesome ideas. I should blog about this/that/that one time that something awesome happened/my funny thoughts on this subject, but in the morning, my memory has escaped me. I think the sandman stole my ideas when I fell asleep, then put them in his blog. Plagiarism from my mind! Intellectual property!
In my honeymoon phase of blogging I was on here all the time. I'd drop what I was doing and write what I was thinking. I had nothing else to do. Ava was a baby, who took lots of naps. Alana was 3, and didn't ask for cereal nearly as often. Now I'm a student, most of the year anyway.
And a referee to some pretty intense arguments of the sibling rivalry variety. Mama! Ava's not sharing your McFlurry! I had that piece of cheese first! I want to watch Bubble Guppies and Ava wants to watch Max & Ruby! Look at me! I have important things to complain about! All of the statements come from Alana, cause Ava doesn't talk. She just says yes/no and grunts/squeals in agreement.
I see my bossy childhood self in Alana, who adapts the rules of games she made up to benefit herself. If Ava is gaining some points in an imaginary made up game, suddenly the rules have changed and Alana is winning. Alana tells us all what to do, and attempts to correct me cause she knows everything. We can't pay for that soda at the photo center cause its not a register! Ava you can't eat that cause I said so! I know everything blah blah blah!
I feel somewhat accomplished in my blogging hiatus, because Ava is 85% potty trained. Actually, she should feel accomplished cause I haven't really done anything. Sometimes I'm too lazy to put her diaper back on, so she started peeing in the potty when it was off. This bottom-half nakedness led to her using the potty all day long, under one condition, bottom-half nakedness. If she is wearing clothes, like pants or underwear, they must be removed. Sometimes if she has clothes on she just won't bother. She will not get on the toilet, because its a giant scary monster that will eat her when flushed! She also will not use the potty when away from home, something I learned after she peed in her clothes twice at my in-laws house. But still, she just turned two, she knows how to use the potty and does not have to be reminded. We have gone through barely any diapers the past month and she stays dry at night. Its pretty awesome.
I think the real reason that I don't feel like blogging is my lack of pictures. My camera is in a camera coma, somewhere in Irvine, California. I had to mail it there, which I put off doing for too long. I called them every single day after it was supposed to arrive, and I'm sure by the time they finally located it they were tired of me. If they knew where it was any of the first 7 times I called I wouldn't have called them so much. Sorry snotty Canon lady who I talked to every time I called there. You mail something that you paid $700 for and then sit patiently at your house wondering if it will be back in time for you to take pictures of your daughter's 5th birthday party next week. Try it. I dare you. They finally emailed me Thursday night, a week after they received it, with vague information saying they were going to fix it and it was covered under the warranty. Thanks for too little too late. If I don't have it back before Alana's birthday I'm gonna be mad.
Maybe I'll blog again next week, after I've read three biology chapters on the nervous system, called Canon just to bother them 4 times, made 40 breakfast burritos for Alana's birthday party cause that's what she wants to eat, and looked at Facebook at least 10 times, cause its easier than blogging.
I don't remember plenty of things. Like the current phone number of anyone I know. Curse you technology and your number saving abilities! But my phone number and address from when I lived in Tucson at age 10? 795-4872. 4626 East 15th Street. Those things are locked away in a steel cage in my mind, never to leave. I can't remember what it was like to hold my girls as a newborn, but I know my phone number from when I was ten.
I can't remember the exact the process that muscles use to transfer chemical energy, to be fair I should study it more but I've resigned myself to getting a B and retaking this class cause powers beyond my control have conspired against me. But, I know my recipe for chocolate chip cookies by heart. Haven't made it in a couple weeks, cause I intentionally ran out of chocolate chips, but I still know it. I can remember every. single. cheer. from high school cheerleading, but biology escapes me.
At night when I lay down to go to bed, way too late, my mind is full of awesome ideas. I should blog about this/that/that one time that something awesome happened/my funny thoughts on this subject, but in the morning, my memory has escaped me. I think the sandman stole my ideas when I fell asleep, then put them in his blog. Plagiarism from my mind! Intellectual property!
In my honeymoon phase of blogging I was on here all the time. I'd drop what I was doing and write what I was thinking. I had nothing else to do. Ava was a baby, who took lots of naps. Alana was 3, and didn't ask for cereal nearly as often. Now I'm a student, most of the year anyway.
And a referee to some pretty intense arguments of the sibling rivalry variety. Mama! Ava's not sharing your McFlurry! I had that piece of cheese first! I want to watch Bubble Guppies and Ava wants to watch Max & Ruby! Look at me! I have important things to complain about! All of the statements come from Alana, cause Ava doesn't talk. She just says yes/no and grunts/squeals in agreement.
I see my bossy childhood self in Alana, who adapts the rules of games she made up to benefit herself. If Ava is gaining some points in an imaginary made up game, suddenly the rules have changed and Alana is winning. Alana tells us all what to do, and attempts to correct me cause she knows everything. We can't pay for that soda at the photo center cause its not a register! Ava you can't eat that cause I said so! I know everything blah blah blah!
I feel somewhat accomplished in my blogging hiatus, because Ava is 85% potty trained. Actually, she should feel accomplished cause I haven't really done anything. Sometimes I'm too lazy to put her diaper back on, so she started peeing in the potty when it was off. This bottom-half nakedness led to her using the potty all day long, under one condition, bottom-half nakedness. If she is wearing clothes, like pants or underwear, they must be removed. Sometimes if she has clothes on she just won't bother. She will not get on the toilet, because its a giant scary monster that will eat her when flushed! She also will not use the potty when away from home, something I learned after she peed in her clothes twice at my in-laws house. But still, she just turned two, she knows how to use the potty and does not have to be reminded. We have gone through barely any diapers the past month and she stays dry at night. Its pretty awesome.
I think the real reason that I don't feel like blogging is my lack of pictures. My camera is in a camera coma, somewhere in Irvine, California. I had to mail it there, which I put off doing for too long. I called them every single day after it was supposed to arrive, and I'm sure by the time they finally located it they were tired of me. If they knew where it was any of the first 7 times I called I wouldn't have called them so much. Sorry snotty Canon lady who I talked to every time I called there. You mail something that you paid $700 for and then sit patiently at your house wondering if it will be back in time for you to take pictures of your daughter's 5th birthday party next week. Try it. I dare you. They finally emailed me Thursday night, a week after they received it, with vague information saying they were going to fix it and it was covered under the warranty. Thanks for too little too late. If I don't have it back before Alana's birthday I'm gonna be mad.
Maybe I'll blog again next week, after I've read three biology chapters on the nervous system, called Canon just to bother them 4 times, made 40 breakfast burritos for Alana's birthday party cause that's what she wants to eat, and looked at Facebook at least 10 times, cause its easier than blogging.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Fresh Baked Love
I cannot imagine a life where I'm unable to just go to the store, in my car, and buy whatever it is that I need. Bread, milk, eggs, cheese, king size Snickers bars, you know, necessities. Everything we need is within our reach, we don't have to do any extra work to acquire it.
If people were unable to buy simple things like bread, how many of them would even know how to make their own? Not many. Tons of people can't even cook themselves simple things, they rely on pre-packaged convenience food, which for the most part, I am opposed to. I don't do Hamburger Helper or Chef Boyardee. Can't say the same thing about David, he loves Chef Boyardee. I might eat a slice of frozen pizza once in awhile, but I'd rather make my own.
As a former fast food employee, I am all too familiar with the huge number of people who don't cook their own food. Here in Benson that number seems huge. I'd see the same people, day after day, eating fast food hamburgers. They had to be sick of them, I know I was. When I quit my fast food job and went to work at a utility company, I was faced with the same people. Many of the same people who I saw day after day at Wendy's, who just couldn't live without their double stack, never paid their gas and water bill promptly. They made excuses and payment arrangements, and were dangerously close to losing service every month. But they had money for a hamburger. I guess they didn't need their gas that much anyway, since they didn't use it to cook.
I view cooking as an essential life skill. I'm not going to go to a restaurant every time I'm hungry, though I do appreciate a trip to Chili's for some cheese fries as much as the next girl. My family needs to be fed, and I'm a particularly hungry girl. The past year my quest for culinary dominance has had me making yeast breads. Pretzels, pizza dough, rolls, french bread. My favorite, carb filled foods. Today I find myself conquering my final yeast bread frontier: homemade bread.
As much as I love a good quick bread, zucchini, pumpkin, banana, I have never made a simple loaf of white bread. Till today. As I type, my kitchen is filled with one of my favorite smells ever, freshly baked bread. I haven't tasted it yet, but I've kneaded my share of dough in my life, so I'm cautiously optimistic. I'm gonna spread it with some strawberry freezer jam I made yesterday, and eat a minimum of three pieces.
On a side note, if you've never had freezer jam, you have to try it. It's so much yummier and fresher tasting than regular jam, because the fruit isn't cooked. And if you're like me and don't have any fancy canning stuff, it doesn't matter. You just put it into a plastic container. So easy! And I just used the recipe that was included with the pectin!
Now that I've sufficiently ranted on about cooking, I'd also like to say that I don't think everything needs to be made from scratch. I personally never put cream-of-anything soup into my food, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with that. I like to cook, because I like to eat. I cook with love, because everything I make is going into the bellies of people I love. Ava has a weakness for my chocolate chip cookies, while Alana is a fan of pretzels.
My love of eating has led me to this:
On an unrelated, I didn't cook this but it's delicious note, to supplement my bread and jam eating, I think I'll have a few of these too. Mmmmm. $5 cheese. I know it has a name, but to me it's defined by it's price tag. $5 for six little cheeses. It's a splurge, to say the least. Last night, when faced with the decision of Starbucks or $5 cheese, I thought outside the box and went with the cheese. Too bad my kids keep stealing it from me.
If people were unable to buy simple things like bread, how many of them would even know how to make their own? Not many. Tons of people can't even cook themselves simple things, they rely on pre-packaged convenience food, which for the most part, I am opposed to. I don't do Hamburger Helper or Chef Boyardee. Can't say the same thing about David, he loves Chef Boyardee. I might eat a slice of frozen pizza once in awhile, but I'd rather make my own.
As a former fast food employee, I am all too familiar with the huge number of people who don't cook their own food. Here in Benson that number seems huge. I'd see the same people, day after day, eating fast food hamburgers. They had to be sick of them, I know I was. When I quit my fast food job and went to work at a utility company, I was faced with the same people. Many of the same people who I saw day after day at Wendy's, who just couldn't live without their double stack, never paid their gas and water bill promptly. They made excuses and payment arrangements, and were dangerously close to losing service every month. But they had money for a hamburger. I guess they didn't need their gas that much anyway, since they didn't use it to cook.
I view cooking as an essential life skill. I'm not going to go to a restaurant every time I'm hungry, though I do appreciate a trip to Chili's for some cheese fries as much as the next girl. My family needs to be fed, and I'm a particularly hungry girl. The past year my quest for culinary dominance has had me making yeast breads. Pretzels, pizza dough, rolls, french bread. My favorite, carb filled foods. Today I find myself conquering my final yeast bread frontier: homemade bread.
As much as I love a good quick bread, zucchini, pumpkin, banana, I have never made a simple loaf of white bread. Till today. As I type, my kitchen is filled with one of my favorite smells ever, freshly baked bread. I haven't tasted it yet, but I've kneaded my share of dough in my life, so I'm cautiously optimistic. I'm gonna spread it with some strawberry freezer jam I made yesterday, and eat a minimum of three pieces.
On a side note, if you've never had freezer jam, you have to try it. It's so much yummier and fresher tasting than regular jam, because the fruit isn't cooked. And if you're like me and don't have any fancy canning stuff, it doesn't matter. You just put it into a plastic container. So easy! And I just used the recipe that was included with the pectin!
Now that I've sufficiently ranted on about cooking, I'd also like to say that I don't think everything needs to be made from scratch. I personally never put cream-of-anything soup into my food, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with that. I like to cook, because I like to eat. I cook with love, because everything I make is going into the bellies of people I love. Ava has a weakness for my chocolate chip cookies, while Alana is a fan of pretzels.
My love of eating has led me to this:
 |
| It did not disappoint. I've eaten two pieces so far. Yum. |
Monday, May 9, 2011
Culinary Fidelity
In my marriage I do not care if my husband thinks other girls are hot. I'm a realistic adult, I know there are other pretty girls in the world. He is free to admire from afar as much as he wants. I'm not the jealous type. Maybe high school Jennifer was jealous, but married with two kids Jennifer doesn't bother.
I also know one thing to be true in my life: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
I may not get jealous of other girl's looks, but there is one solid rule I need to maintain in my marriage. David is not allowed to like other people's cooking more than he likes mine. Even if he does, he can never admit to it. Never.
If he casually mentions that he had a cinnamon roll at work, I need details. Who made it? Was it good? What kind of frosting? And the all important question: Was it better than mine? The answer had better be no, followed by some criticism of the other cinnamon roll.
I am secure in my cooking abilities, but that doesn't mean I need unnecessary competition. In order to preserve the small bit of sanity I have left, David has to say that my cooking is better. That's all it takes. Easy enough right?
I also know one thing to be true in my life: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
I may not get jealous of other girl's looks, but there is one solid rule I need to maintain in my marriage. David is not allowed to like other people's cooking more than he likes mine. Even if he does, he can never admit to it. Never.
If he casually mentions that he had a cinnamon roll at work, I need details. Who made it? Was it good? What kind of frosting? And the all important question: Was it better than mine? The answer had better be no, followed by some criticism of the other cinnamon roll.
I am secure in my cooking abilities, but that doesn't mean I need unnecessary competition. In order to preserve the small bit of sanity I have left, David has to say that my cooking is better. That's all it takes. Easy enough right?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Me of Little Faith
I've come to an undeniable conclusion. My mind cannot be changed. Its the end of an era really. Close the door on that chapter. My revelation:
The Office is going to suck without Steve Carell.
I'm sorry to break the news to you all. As much as I love Jim and Pam, even Dwight, they alone cannot carry the weight of Dunder Mifflin on their shoulders. They should just end the show.
I'm going to be wearing black the day of May 12, for that will be the end of Michael Scott. Farewell friend.
Abraham Lincoln once said, "If you are a racist, I will attack you with the North."
The Office is going to suck without Steve Carell.
I'm sorry to break the news to you all. As much as I love Jim and Pam, even Dwight, they alone cannot carry the weight of Dunder Mifflin on their shoulders. They should just end the show.
I'm going to be wearing black the day of May 12, for that will be the end of Michael Scott. Farewell friend.
Abraham Lincoln once said, "If you are a racist, I will attack you with the North."
Friday, January 7, 2011
Waiting is for Losers
I try to be patient. I do. Promise. But sometimes I run short on it. There's a shortage, which is only increased by lack of sleep and other people whining.
My kids are patience testers. Certified and everything. They will test anyone's patience for free. They start with a methodical rewatching of the same annoying TV show, over and over again, till you are tempted to cancel your cable. Then they will cry at your feet, pull on your pants when you're doing dishes, and ask for stuff they don't really want, like a bowl of cereal they have no intention of eating. But they're cute and I love them, so I keep them around.
My husband is a patience tester. Men and women and completely different when they're sick. Women still do all of the normal stuff they usually do, at least I do. Men lay on the couch and watch football, while reminding their wife that they are sick, in case you forgot. David also loves to watch sports, but I hate it. I put up with it though, because its less annoying than the complaining he does if I watch a bunch of episodes of How I Met Your Mother in a row. I'd rather be the annoyed one, than the annoying one.
Everyone is annoying at some point. Your family. Your in-laws. Your boss. They don't mean to be annoying, its just a side effect of good intentions gone wrong.
To me the most annoying patience testing thing in the universe is waiting for something. Waiting for my kids to finally be healthy again, so I can sleep through the night. Waiting for my cold to pass so I can breathe through my nose, my preferred method of breathing. Waiting in line. Waiting for David's W2 form so I can file our taxes. Waiting for our tax return to arrive in the bank so I can go shopping. Waiting to go on vacation with previously mentioned tax return.
Waiting takes forever to me. When I was trying to have a second baby, and every month I would have to wait and see if we were successful or not, that was the worst kind of time-slowing waiting possible. I hate waiting to know things. I need an answer! When I first suspected that I was pregnant with Alana I was at work. I didn't want to wait till the end of the day, so at lunch I went to the store, bought a test and took it back to work to take it. Then instead of waiting till the end of the day to tell David I was pregnant, I texted him at work. True story.
I've never been good at waiting for things. In reality it drives me crazy. It tests my patience more than anything. The worst part is that there's nothing I can do about it.
My kids are patience testers. Certified and everything. They will test anyone's patience for free. They start with a methodical rewatching of the same annoying TV show, over and over again, till you are tempted to cancel your cable. Then they will cry at your feet, pull on your pants when you're doing dishes, and ask for stuff they don't really want, like a bowl of cereal they have no intention of eating. But they're cute and I love them, so I keep them around.
My husband is a patience tester. Men and women and completely different when they're sick. Women still do all of the normal stuff they usually do, at least I do. Men lay on the couch and watch football, while reminding their wife that they are sick, in case you forgot. David also loves to watch sports, but I hate it. I put up with it though, because its less annoying than the complaining he does if I watch a bunch of episodes of How I Met Your Mother in a row. I'd rather be the annoyed one, than the annoying one.
Everyone is annoying at some point. Your family. Your in-laws. Your boss. They don't mean to be annoying, its just a side effect of good intentions gone wrong.
To me the most annoying patience testing thing in the universe is waiting for something. Waiting for my kids to finally be healthy again, so I can sleep through the night. Waiting for my cold to pass so I can breathe through my nose, my preferred method of breathing. Waiting in line. Waiting for David's W2 form so I can file our taxes. Waiting for our tax return to arrive in the bank so I can go shopping. Waiting to go on vacation with previously mentioned tax return.
Waiting takes forever to me. When I was trying to have a second baby, and every month I would have to wait and see if we were successful or not, that was the worst kind of time-slowing waiting possible. I hate waiting to know things. I need an answer! When I first suspected that I was pregnant with Alana I was at work. I didn't want to wait till the end of the day, so at lunch I went to the store, bought a test and took it back to work to take it. Then instead of waiting till the end of the day to tell David I was pregnant, I texted him at work. True story.
I've never been good at waiting for things. In reality it drives me crazy. It tests my patience more than anything. The worst part is that there's nothing I can do about it.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Don't Kid Yourself
When I first got pregnant with Alana I didn't know how much my life would change. I thought it would be mostly the same, just with a baby. I thought I could stay cool. I was so naive.
Once you become a parent everything in your life is different.
Enjoy going to the movies? Get ready to see every animated movie ever. The last movie I saw was Jackass 3D. I do realize that's not a kids movie. But before that we saw at least five kids movies in a row. Shrek 4, Toy Story 3, The Squeakquel, How to Train Your Dragon, Despicable Me. No live action movies for us.
Enjoy privacy? Sorry. A little person, then maybe even two, will be chaperoning your trips to the bathroom from now on. At home and in public. Sometimes, just for kicks, they'll try to open the stall door before you pull up your pants. Hilarious when it happens to someone else, not amusing when it happens to me. Potty breaks aren't the only time they'll join you either. Everytime I take a bath Ava joins me. My relaxing bath is full of floating fish and crab bath toys.
Think you'll still be cool? Seriously, no matter how cool you dress or act you slowly lose cool points each year you're a parent. You will know all the songs to all the cartoons, so that you find yourself singing them when your kids aren't even awake. You will play hide-and-seek with a four year old who's not that great at hiding, then fall down in your hiding place. That may have happened to me today. You will cut stuff out of construction paper. You will blow on food in public to cool it down. Still unsure whether that even really works. You will have Cheeto handprints on your pants, when you don't even eat Cheetos.
Even if you think you can maintain a shred of your coolness, you're wrong. Its easy to be cool to your toddler or pre-schooler. They think you're awesome no matter what. But when that kid gets older, they will roll their eyes at stuff you say. They will wonder What is she wearing? They will criticize your cooking/hair/music/clothes/driving/grammar/taste in everything. They will be embarassed by you. Its really a losing battle. May as well get out the mom jeans and start wearing sweaters decorated for the season. You know, the ones with Christmas trees and Santa Claus on them.
You will even start to question whether or not you were actually cool to begin with. You look at old pictures and think What is with my hair? That shirt is so ugly. You will rethink your actions. Maybe cutting stuff out of construction paper is cool. Going to see every cartoon at the theater is fun. But I enjoy shopping at Toys-R-Us. Macaroni and cheese isn't that bad. (I actually hate macaroni and cheese). Spongebob isn't that annoying, I could sit through another episode. Going to Disneyland every year for vacation is fun!
As you slowly lose your coolness you don't even realize it. Its a gradual transition. Moms with young kids and babies usually still look stylish. They put some effort into their appearance. Dress with current trends. But in some cases style doesn't evolve over the years. By the time your kids are in high school you're so out of touch with what's in style you're ready to be nominated for What Not to Wear. You still wear the same clothes you did ten years ago, with no concern for the fact that they are majorly outdated. Shoulder pads are cool, right?
By the time you've been a mom for awhile everything is so different you won't even remember what is was like before you had little people ruling your home with an iron fist. You will no longer even be concerned with coolness. Its a foreign concept to you. Till oneday your teenager comes out of their room and you think What are you wearing? And what's with your hair? And that music you listen to? Horrible.
Once you become a parent everything in your life is different.
Enjoy going to the movies? Get ready to see every animated movie ever. The last movie I saw was Jackass 3D. I do realize that's not a kids movie. But before that we saw at least five kids movies in a row. Shrek 4, Toy Story 3, The Squeakquel, How to Train Your Dragon, Despicable Me. No live action movies for us.
Enjoy privacy? Sorry. A little person, then maybe even two, will be chaperoning your trips to the bathroom from now on. At home and in public. Sometimes, just for kicks, they'll try to open the stall door before you pull up your pants. Hilarious when it happens to someone else, not amusing when it happens to me. Potty breaks aren't the only time they'll join you either. Everytime I take a bath Ava joins me. My relaxing bath is full of floating fish and crab bath toys.
Think you'll still be cool? Seriously, no matter how cool you dress or act you slowly lose cool points each year you're a parent. You will know all the songs to all the cartoons, so that you find yourself singing them when your kids aren't even awake. You will play hide-and-seek with a four year old who's not that great at hiding, then fall down in your hiding place. That may have happened to me today. You will cut stuff out of construction paper. You will blow on food in public to cool it down. Still unsure whether that even really works. You will have Cheeto handprints on your pants, when you don't even eat Cheetos.
Even if you think you can maintain a shred of your coolness, you're wrong. Its easy to be cool to your toddler or pre-schooler. They think you're awesome no matter what. But when that kid gets older, they will roll their eyes at stuff you say. They will wonder What is she wearing? They will criticize your cooking/hair/music/clothes/driving/grammar/taste in everything. They will be embarassed by you. Its really a losing battle. May as well get out the mom jeans and start wearing sweaters decorated for the season. You know, the ones with Christmas trees and Santa Claus on them.
You will even start to question whether or not you were actually cool to begin with. You look at old pictures and think What is with my hair? That shirt is so ugly. You will rethink your actions. Maybe cutting stuff out of construction paper is cool. Going to see every cartoon at the theater is fun. But I enjoy shopping at Toys-R-Us. Macaroni and cheese isn't that bad. (I actually hate macaroni and cheese). Spongebob isn't that annoying, I could sit through another episode. Going to Disneyland every year for vacation is fun!
As you slowly lose your coolness you don't even realize it. Its a gradual transition. Moms with young kids and babies usually still look stylish. They put some effort into their appearance. Dress with current trends. But in some cases style doesn't evolve over the years. By the time your kids are in high school you're so out of touch with what's in style you're ready to be nominated for What Not to Wear. You still wear the same clothes you did ten years ago, with no concern for the fact that they are majorly outdated. Shoulder pads are cool, right?
By the time you've been a mom for awhile everything is so different you won't even remember what is was like before you had little people ruling your home with an iron fist. You will no longer even be concerned with coolness. Its a foreign concept to you. Till oneday your teenager comes out of their room and you think What are you wearing? And what's with your hair? And that music you listen to? Horrible.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Finding a Healthy Balance
In most marriages there are two types of people: a spender and a saver.
Generally in mine David is the spender and I am the saver. At least I try to be. He is constantly wanting to go out and eat fast food. Lets go to Subway. Alana wants a Happy Meal so lets get McDonalds. Luckily we only have a couple of restaurants here and most of them are gross so we don't bother.
I, on the other hand, am the queen of impulsive trips to Wal-Mart. Anybody want a candy bar? I'll go to Wal-Mart. Brownies? Wal-Mart. Bored? I'll go to Wal-Mart. In-laws stopped by without calling first? I'll go to Wal-Mart. I usually only get a couple of things and spend around $10, but that adds up over time.
The problem with our small spending habits is that we live on a pretty small budget, so if we spend $20 at McDonalds thats all our spending money for the week.
I try to have willpower but sometimes I'm just a pushover and say whatever. Then I get mad when we don't have any money, cause we just spent $20 on crappy cheeseburgers or Little Debbie cakes from Wal-Mart.
I want to save, but we both have a medical condition that makes it impossible. Its called moneyburningaholeinmypocket-itis. The minute we have more than ten extra dollars on payday we start dreaming of ways to spend it.
I think our pre-kids life spoiled us. We were constantly eating at restaurants, going to the movies and shopping. Oh the fancy life that two incomes provided us with.
I will try my best to be the saver to David's spender, but its pretty hard to resist buying stuff when I can. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go look at baby clothes on Old Navy.
Generally in mine David is the spender and I am the saver. At least I try to be. He is constantly wanting to go out and eat fast food. Lets go to Subway. Alana wants a Happy Meal so lets get McDonalds. Luckily we only have a couple of restaurants here and most of them are gross so we don't bother.
I, on the other hand, am the queen of impulsive trips to Wal-Mart. Anybody want a candy bar? I'll go to Wal-Mart. Brownies? Wal-Mart. Bored? I'll go to Wal-Mart. In-laws stopped by without calling first? I'll go to Wal-Mart. I usually only get a couple of things and spend around $10, but that adds up over time.
The problem with our small spending habits is that we live on a pretty small budget, so if we spend $20 at McDonalds thats all our spending money for the week.
I try to have willpower but sometimes I'm just a pushover and say whatever. Then I get mad when we don't have any money, cause we just spent $20 on crappy cheeseburgers or Little Debbie cakes from Wal-Mart.
I want to save, but we both have a medical condition that makes it impossible. Its called moneyburningaholeinmypocket-itis. The minute we have more than ten extra dollars on payday we start dreaming of ways to spend it.
I think our pre-kids life spoiled us. We were constantly eating at restaurants, going to the movies and shopping. Oh the fancy life that two incomes provided us with.
I will try my best to be the saver to David's spender, but its pretty hard to resist buying stuff when I can. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go look at baby clothes on Old Navy.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
I'm a Bad Friend
Sometimes I find myself wondering why I don't have tons of friends. Its not that I don't have any friends. I have lots of friends that I never see. Its just that I'm kind of a bad friend.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a horrible-stab-you-in-the-back borrow-your-clothes-and-never-return-them talk-crap-about-you just-be-a-horrible-person-in-general kind of friend. Its just that I make absolutely no effort to stay in touch with people. I don't write. I don't call. I don't send flowers.
I am, in general, a lazy friend. I never call people and say Hey whats up lets go somewhere! I just don't. That would require effort. So when I'm sitting at home doing my homework by myself wondering why I never go anywhere with anyone besides David or my kids, there's my answer.
In school I was always a one-friend kind of girl. Seriously people. One friend. Kindergarten. One friend. Camille Somethingoranother. First grade. Jennifer Whatsherface. Second grade. My cousin Rhonda. Third grade. Stephanie Icantremember. Fourth grade. Still Stephanie Icantremember. Fifth grade. Joelle Someoneicouldntpickoutofalineup. You get the picture.
Then I moved to St. David in seventh grade. Once again, no friends. The only person who talked to me for weeks was my stepsister Melissa. Before school, I sat with Melissa. At lunch, I sat with Melissa. After school, I got on the bus with Melissa. That was pretty much it. Then she made a friend. I was left alone.
Eighth grade rolled around and I was still relatively friendless. Finally there was a new student, who wasn't so new but had been homeschooled so everyone else knew her. Yay for me! I had a friend! Yay for Krystal Whoslastnameicanrememberbutwontdisclose!
Around high school my one-friendedness translated to something different. I would have a boyfriend and only hang out with him. I'd ditch everyone else to spend every moment with just one person. Then when that was over, cause lets face it high school relationships are mostly temporary, I'd have no one to talk to. Then I'd have to crawl back to any friends I still had left.
Its not that I didn't want to have a big group of friends, but in high school I was still a little shy and not really that sure of myself. The idea of talking to someone I didn't know that well was foreign to me. It wasn't gonna happen. Not in a million years.
Once I grew up a little bit and entered the real world of working, I made some friends. They were partly friends of convenience, because I saw them everyday. When I saw them everyday I could then make plans to do stuff outside of work. No additional effort required. I made good friends just from my crappy job at Wendy's. I can thank the high turnover rate for that, since there were always new people coming in.
Now I stay at home full time. I'm in friend limbo. I have friends, but I don't ever call them. I do chat on Facebook, but that doesn't really count as real adult conversation if I have to stop to wipe someone's butt. I don't really meet anyone new. Where would I meet them? My living room? I'm just lazy. And kind of a bad friend.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a horrible-stab-you-in-the-back borrow-your-clothes-and-never-return-them talk-crap-about-you just-be-a-horrible-person-in-general kind of friend. Its just that I make absolutely no effort to stay in touch with people. I don't write. I don't call. I don't send flowers.
I am, in general, a lazy friend. I never call people and say Hey whats up lets go somewhere! I just don't. That would require effort. So when I'm sitting at home doing my homework by myself wondering why I never go anywhere with anyone besides David or my kids, there's my answer.
In school I was always a one-friend kind of girl. Seriously people. One friend. Kindergarten. One friend. Camille Somethingoranother. First grade. Jennifer Whatsherface. Second grade. My cousin Rhonda. Third grade. Stephanie Icantremember. Fourth grade. Still Stephanie Icantremember. Fifth grade. Joelle Someoneicouldntpickoutofalineup. You get the picture.
Then I moved to St. David in seventh grade. Once again, no friends. The only person who talked to me for weeks was my stepsister Melissa. Before school, I sat with Melissa. At lunch, I sat with Melissa. After school, I got on the bus with Melissa. That was pretty much it. Then she made a friend. I was left alone.
Eighth grade rolled around and I was still relatively friendless. Finally there was a new student, who wasn't so new but had been homeschooled so everyone else knew her. Yay for me! I had a friend! Yay for Krystal Whoslastnameicanrememberbutwontdisclose!
Around high school my one-friendedness translated to something different. I would have a boyfriend and only hang out with him. I'd ditch everyone else to spend every moment with just one person. Then when that was over, cause lets face it high school relationships are mostly temporary, I'd have no one to talk to. Then I'd have to crawl back to any friends I still had left.
Its not that I didn't want to have a big group of friends, but in high school I was still a little shy and not really that sure of myself. The idea of talking to someone I didn't know that well was foreign to me. It wasn't gonna happen. Not in a million years.
Once I grew up a little bit and entered the real world of working, I made some friends. They were partly friends of convenience, because I saw them everyday. When I saw them everyday I could then make plans to do stuff outside of work. No additional effort required. I made good friends just from my crappy job at Wendy's. I can thank the high turnover rate for that, since there were always new people coming in.
Now I stay at home full time. I'm in friend limbo. I have friends, but I don't ever call them. I do chat on Facebook, but that doesn't really count as real adult conversation if I have to stop to wipe someone's butt. I don't really meet anyone new. Where would I meet them? My living room? I'm just lazy. And kind of a bad friend.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Funny ha ha
I've been told I'm funny. Not just that I'm funny, but my blog is funny.
Sometimes its from my family. Sometimes random people tell me.
My labor and delivery nurse when I had Ava. She said I was funny. Even in labor, dilated to 7, I can't turn off my humor. Its a gift and a curse really.
A four year old boy said I was funny. Well, maybe he said crazy. Same difference when you're talking about a four year old.
So I thought I'd get a second opinion. So I asked David. Here's how the conversation went.
Me: Am I funny? (No beating around the bush, I just asked).
David: Funny ha ha? (Interesting that he phrased it like that since I had this post saved in draft and I had already named it).
Me: Yeah. Funny ha ha. So am I?
David: I don't know. I guess you can be. Did someone say you were?
Me: Yeah, like everybody. You laugh at my jokes. Member that one time when you were comparing pizza to sex and you said that pizza and sex are similar because even if its bad, its still pizza. You member that? And so I said I'm not like you cause I can't eat bad pizza. And you laughed. That was funny right?
David: I guess. I guess you're funny like Gilbert Godfried. Funny in small doses but it can get annoying quick. (Then he did a really inaccurate impression of my voice that was supposed to sound like Gilbert Godfried). (And if you don't know who Gilbert Godfried is, he does the voice of the bird Iago in the disney movie Aladdin.)
Me: Thanks. I'll take that into consideration.
So after that conversation with my always helpful husband, I think I need another second opinion. I'm not really satisfied with the Gilbert Godfried comparison.
***If you feel like you've read this before, its because I'm re-posting it. I'm feeling kinda lazy tonight, but I don't want to neglect my poor blog. Plus I linked it to my Facebook page, so I wanna make a good impression. Is it working?
Sometimes its from my family. Sometimes random people tell me.
My labor and delivery nurse when I had Ava. She said I was funny. Even in labor, dilated to 7, I can't turn off my humor. Its a gift and a curse really.
A four year old boy said I was funny. Well, maybe he said crazy. Same difference when you're talking about a four year old.
So I thought I'd get a second opinion. So I asked David. Here's how the conversation went.
Me: Am I funny? (No beating around the bush, I just asked).
David: Funny ha ha? (Interesting that he phrased it like that since I had this post saved in draft and I had already named it).
Me: Yeah. Funny ha ha. So am I?
David: I don't know. I guess you can be. Did someone say you were?
Me: Yeah, like everybody. You laugh at my jokes. Member that one time when you were comparing pizza to sex and you said that pizza and sex are similar because even if its bad, its still pizza. You member that? And so I said I'm not like you cause I can't eat bad pizza. And you laughed. That was funny right?
David: I guess. I guess you're funny like Gilbert Godfried. Funny in small doses but it can get annoying quick. (Then he did a really inaccurate impression of my voice that was supposed to sound like Gilbert Godfried). (And if you don't know who Gilbert Godfried is, he does the voice of the bird Iago in the disney movie Aladdin.)
Me: Thanks. I'll take that into consideration.
So after that conversation with my always helpful husband, I think I need another second opinion. I'm not really satisfied with the Gilbert Godfried comparison.
***If you feel like you've read this before, its because I'm re-posting it. I'm feeling kinda lazy tonight, but I don't want to neglect my poor blog. Plus I linked it to my Facebook page, so I wanna make a good impression. Is it working?
Monday, September 20, 2010
Feel Like I'm Fallin' for Fall
Hooray for September! It's officially fall-ish here in AZ, which means its only 90 outside. I'm ready for Halloween, Thanksgiving and cooler weather. And soup. Lots and lots of soup.
I made soup for dinner tonight. It was yummy. You should try some. I added a little more chicken broth than her and left out the bacon, but it was great cause my kids ate so many vegetables and they didn't even know it. I'm a master of disguise. Its a little harder to disguise veggies in grilled chicken. I also made a zucchini cake. My house smells like cinnamon. Very fall-ish.
I love this time of year because we finally get a break from the sweltering heat, but not so much that we have to run the heater or anything. Its not so hot during the day and cool at night. I wish we had some trees that provided some fall foliage, but you can't win 'em all.
And I love October. Its the best month. It contains Alana's and David's birthdays, Halloween and plenty of soup weather. If every month were like October the world would be a great place.
Then comes November. Its slightly cooler, but around here its pretty nice. This is the month of low utility bills around here, because the cooler is no longer needed but the heaters not quite on yet. Cheap gas and electric bills all around. And I love Thanksgiving. Its my favorite holiday. All the delicious food of Christmas without having to buy ten million presents. Lots of pumpkin flavored foods, turkey and my dad's gravy, which is delicious enough to be eaten by itself. And of course football. The Cowboys play every Thanksgiving, so our day is planned around that. We must be somewhere with a big screen TV (our house or my dad's) by 2 pm. Not optional to miss that game.
All of my favorite stuff happens in the fall and it just happens to coincide with cooler weather. I couldn't of planned it better if I'd tried.
I made soup for dinner tonight. It was yummy. You should try some. I added a little more chicken broth than her and left out the bacon, but it was great cause my kids ate so many vegetables and they didn't even know it. I'm a master of disguise. Its a little harder to disguise veggies in grilled chicken. I also made a zucchini cake. My house smells like cinnamon. Very fall-ish.
I love this time of year because we finally get a break from the sweltering heat, but not so much that we have to run the heater or anything. Its not so hot during the day and cool at night. I wish we had some trees that provided some fall foliage, but you can't win 'em all.
And I love October. Its the best month. It contains Alana's and David's birthdays, Halloween and plenty of soup weather. If every month were like October the world would be a great place.
Then comes November. Its slightly cooler, but around here its pretty nice. This is the month of low utility bills around here, because the cooler is no longer needed but the heaters not quite on yet. Cheap gas and electric bills all around. And I love Thanksgiving. Its my favorite holiday. All the delicious food of Christmas without having to buy ten million presents. Lots of pumpkin flavored foods, turkey and my dad's gravy, which is delicious enough to be eaten by itself. And of course football. The Cowboys play every Thanksgiving, so our day is planned around that. We must be somewhere with a big screen TV (our house or my dad's) by 2 pm. Not optional to miss that game.
All of my favorite stuff happens in the fall and it just happens to coincide with cooler weather. I couldn't of planned it better if I'd tried.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Fashion Sense
One of the perks of being a parent is that you're finally in charge. You're the boss. The number one go-to guy. El hefe. The chief. The general. You get the picture.
Once said power is in your hands its up to you what to do with it. You begin your reign as soon as your baby is born, but you lose your power sooner than you'd like to admit. Exercise it while you can, because it will be gone before you know it.
I choose to use my powers for good. The good of fashion. I have two little girls, it would be a crime if I didn't dress them as cute as possible.
But the thing about fashion is its relative. What I consider cute might not be cute to someone else. The clothes they consider cute and fashionable probably won't be appealing to me.
I've always been a little on the preppy side for some people, though I've made a couple detours to the punk way of life. I considered PacSun to be the best store ever back then. Back when I had my eyebrow pierced. I wore shirts that said stuff like Don't Label Me. I had a yellow shirt with a monkey in a yoga pose. My personal favorite was an orange shirt that said Boys Lie. I can't even begin to tell you how many creepy old men commented on that shirt. I was 19 and they had no business looking at my shirt.
I see other people out in public and Isometimes frequently think to myself What were they thinking leaving the house in that? But they probably thought it looked good. Who knows? Maybe muffin tops are in style somewhere that I've never been. They might even be looking back at me and wondering if I thought I looked good when I left the house. Impossible. Maybe.
Everyone has different personal style so who am I to judge what looks good and what doesn't? Seriously though, some things will never look good. Camel toes, muffin tops, toes hanging off the front of your shoes, that gap between articles of clothing where they can't quite seem to cover the middle. But those things are more about how the clothes fit, not what clothes you're wearing.
I'm not a fashion expert, although I've seen plenty of episodes of What Not to Wear. But I'd like to think I dress okay. That's why I like to dress my kids almost like miniature versions of myself. They have little skinny jeans, Ugg boots, ballet flats, leggings, hoodies, cute little shirts. All the necessities. And I have to say they definitely look cuter in it than I do. But they look cuter in everything than I do.
I wouldn't wear everything I dress them in, cause I don't wear pajamas with feet in them, but I like their clothes to reflect my style. At least for now, while I still have control. Till I lose control though, its every woman for themself around here.
Once said power is in your hands its up to you what to do with it. You begin your reign as soon as your baby is born, but you lose your power sooner than you'd like to admit. Exercise it while you can, because it will be gone before you know it.
I choose to use my powers for good. The good of fashion. I have two little girls, it would be a crime if I didn't dress them as cute as possible.
But the thing about fashion is its relative. What I consider cute might not be cute to someone else. The clothes they consider cute and fashionable probably won't be appealing to me.
I've always been a little on the preppy side for some people, though I've made a couple detours to the punk way of life. I considered PacSun to be the best store ever back then. Back when I had my eyebrow pierced. I wore shirts that said stuff like Don't Label Me. I had a yellow shirt with a monkey in a yoga pose. My personal favorite was an orange shirt that said Boys Lie. I can't even begin to tell you how many creepy old men commented on that shirt. I was 19 and they had no business looking at my shirt.
I see other people out in public and I
Everyone has different personal style so who am I to judge what looks good and what doesn't? Seriously though, some things will never look good. Camel toes, muffin tops, toes hanging off the front of your shoes, that gap between articles of clothing where they can't quite seem to cover the middle. But those things are more about how the clothes fit, not what clothes you're wearing.
I'm not a fashion expert, although I've seen plenty of episodes of What Not to Wear. But I'd like to think I dress okay. That's why I like to dress my kids almost like miniature versions of myself. They have little skinny jeans, Ugg boots, ballet flats, leggings, hoodies, cute little shirts. All the necessities. And I have to say they definitely look cuter in it than I do. But they look cuter in everything than I do.
I wouldn't wear everything I dress them in, cause I don't wear pajamas with feet in them, but I like their clothes to reflect my style. At least for now, while I still have control. Till I lose control though, its every woman for themself around here.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Things old people say
As previously mentioned, we can't help but turn into our parents.
But we can control the things that we say. There are things that old people say that automatically make them sound old.
If you ever start your sentence with When I was your age, then young people will stop listening to you instantly.
When you say I used to walk 8 miles to school, uphill both ways, in the snow, no one really believes you. You are then labelled old, and for good measure you are now also crazy.
At my parents house they have a table older than me. It is sturdier than we give it credit for being. Yet whenever a child comes near it everyone over 25 says Don't lean on the ends of the table, they're only held on by pins. Call me crazy, but I don't think after three generations of abuse those table ends are coming off. Or maybe they're still there because of the caution taken by all the adults?
If a new song comes on the radio, and your response is not tapping your feet along with the beat and singing along, but saying All these songs sound the same these days. Kids these days have terrible taste in music. Just stop listening to pop music then. Listen to your fuddy-duddy old songs that the adults of your childhood looked down on.
When you go shopping, please refer to sandals as flip-flops or something of that nature. If you walk into the store asking Do you have any thongs for kids?, the sales clerk will look at you like you're speaking another language.
Nowadays, we only call womens underwear thongs, so if you say that, that's what people will think you're talking about. And they will picture little thong underwear for children. Maybe kids these days have too many visible panty lines and we need to do something about this immediately, but thongs for kids isn't the answer.
Anytime you say I remember when...insert stereotypical thing like kids didn't have cell phones, people had morals, people didn't watch so much tv, computers didn't exist (you get the picture). People are always evolving and our culture is always changing. Kids didn't have cell phones when I was in high school, and that was ten years ago. Now we're all texting and surfing the internet on our phones, and not listening to old people.
Most of the time if you talk about your medical problems, your grandchildren won't listen that closely. These new orthopedic shoes I got were so expensive. Stupid Medicare didn't pay for them. For me personally, I don't really want to hear a ton of detail about anyone's medical problems, so hearing about your cheese allergy isn't that compelling to me.
Last but not least, complaining about the price of things makes you seem old and cheap. Everything's just getting so expensive, I remember when a gallon of milk was 5 cents. Prices get higher. Thats just how it is. And milk will never again be 5 cents a gallon. Never.
But we can control the things that we say. There are things that old people say that automatically make them sound old.
If you ever start your sentence with When I was your age, then young people will stop listening to you instantly.
When you say I used to walk 8 miles to school, uphill both ways, in the snow, no one really believes you. You are then labelled old, and for good measure you are now also crazy.
At my parents house they have a table older than me. It is sturdier than we give it credit for being. Yet whenever a child comes near it everyone over 25 says Don't lean on the ends of the table, they're only held on by pins. Call me crazy, but I don't think after three generations of abuse those table ends are coming off. Or maybe they're still there because of the caution taken by all the adults?
If a new song comes on the radio, and your response is not tapping your feet along with the beat and singing along, but saying All these songs sound the same these days. Kids these days have terrible taste in music. Just stop listening to pop music then. Listen to your fuddy-duddy old songs that the adults of your childhood looked down on.
When you go shopping, please refer to sandals as flip-flops or something of that nature. If you walk into the store asking Do you have any thongs for kids?, the sales clerk will look at you like you're speaking another language.
Nowadays, we only call womens underwear thongs, so if you say that, that's what people will think you're talking about. And they will picture little thong underwear for children. Maybe kids these days have too many visible panty lines and we need to do something about this immediately, but thongs for kids isn't the answer.
Anytime you say I remember when...insert stereotypical thing like kids didn't have cell phones, people had morals, people didn't watch so much tv, computers didn't exist (you get the picture). People are always evolving and our culture is always changing. Kids didn't have cell phones when I was in high school, and that was ten years ago. Now we're all texting and surfing the internet on our phones, and not listening to old people.
Most of the time if you talk about your medical problems, your grandchildren won't listen that closely. These new orthopedic shoes I got were so expensive. Stupid Medicare didn't pay for them. For me personally, I don't really want to hear a ton of detail about anyone's medical problems, so hearing about your cheese allergy isn't that compelling to me.
Last but not least, complaining about the price of things makes you seem old and cheap. Everything's just getting so expensive, I remember when a gallon of milk was 5 cents. Prices get higher. Thats just how it is. And milk will never again be 5 cents a gallon. Never.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
Posts
